The Ties That Bind
by BoatsAndBirds
Summary: Orihime had always lived in a fairytale, complete with a Knight in Shining Armor and Evil Dragon. Her name even meant Princess. But when the Knight turned out to be not-so-shining, and the Dragon not-so-evil, her world turned upside down. And she sank.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Ties That Bind

By: Boats and Birds

Rated: T (because I am teen, get it, haha, yeah.)

Summary: Orihime had always lived in something of a fairytale, complete with Knight in Shining armor and evil Dragon. Her name even meant princess. But when the Knight turned out to be not so Shining, and the Dragon not so evil, her world turned upside down.

A/N: I don't watch very much anime. I'm not too terribly fond of most of it. But when my cousin introduced me to Bleach, I fell in love somehow. Maybe it's because she was the first, maybe it was because she's much like me, but Orihime Inoue is my all time favorite female anime character, and she always shall be. There is just something  
about her, I can't explain it. I'm not a crying person, but when she was kidnapped, I had tears in my eyes. So, I decided to write something for her, tell her tale. This is her story, the way I see it through my eyes. Weep for her.

Disclaimer: Someday, I shall create a world even better then Bleach, and then I shall be famous. But, till then, I fear I must content myself with the made up worlds of others. Oh, yeah, BleachbelongstoTiteKubo. There.

* * *

The Ties That Bind

By Boats and Birds

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a Princess beautiful as the sun. She resided in a land full of light and laughter, surrounded by friends and family who cared about her. Her cheerful countenance, radiant smile, and shining auburn hair never ceased to endear her to all she knew.

Now, in this kingdom, there lived also a Knight. He was strong, and brave, and handsome. Though his exterior was rough and blunt, he performed great deeds, and fought to protect his country and his Princess. And though the Princess could never muster up enough courage to tell anyone, she cherished a secret love for the noble Knight. Her smile would become sunnier when he was around, her bright personality brighter.

Yet her love for the warrior was more powerful than even she imagined. The Princess knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that should dire peril ever descend upon them, she would step forward in an instant to save him. So it only seemed natural that, when a fearsome Dragon with stunning emerald eyes threatened her Knight, nay, her kingdom, she would sacrifice her freedom and well-being to save them.

And to protect her love, she agreed willingly to accompany the Dragon back to his homeland. These two warring countries had held a stalemate for years on end. In fact, it seemed nigh impossible to imagine a time they had not been bitter enemies. Neither could ever overcome the other. And yet it was common knowledge that the Princess possessed a singular power. Worth nothing in warfare, unable to slash or kill or draw blood, but incredible all the same. A power that could change forever the tides of the long lasting battle.

So away flew the Dragon, with the sun trapped between his razor talons. The Knight, the handsome soldier who held unknowingly the heart of his dear friend, remained oblivious as she was borne farther and farther away. Into dark lands where the moon barely cast it's silvery glow over the endless night. A strange and terrible place where monsters roamed free, and barren wastelands stretched endlessly as far as the eye could see.

And to the white castle of a black king, the Princess was taken. In a small room, as pale and stark as the land outside her window, she gazed down at the plain white garments she had been given to wear. White. It was the emblem of this dreadful place. She was drowning in a sea of white. She was full of it, full to the brim. She was no longer herself, the merry Princess full of color and life, she was white inside and out.

Tears began to fall. Spilling down her alabaster face to pool upon the floor, each crystal drop washed away her hope. Happiness, cheer, they were chipped away slowly; bit by bit. Gone was the smile that could light up a room, gone was the vibrant warmth in her eyes. Now, empty nothingness filled the Princess.

_There is no meaning to our world_

She could not think, could not feel.

_There is no meaning to those of us living there._

It was as though her soul had departed from her body, leaving behind nothing but a lovely shell.

_We meaningless beings ponder the world._

She was drowning.

_But the realization of meaningless itself means nothing_

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Wasn't that glorious? I think I did an absolutely fantastical job. Fantastical is a word, you know? Shakespeare coined it. How cool it that? Um, anyways, reviews bring tears of pure joy to my eyes. SO REVIEW! Kisses!


	2. The Sun Has Already Set

Title: The Ties That Bind

Author: Boats and Birds

Chapter: #2

A/N: Right. To my two reviewers (SOB! Only two! Why only two? Does the world hate me? Okay... deep breaths. In. Out. I'm over it! ... SOB!). How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

1) You reviewed.

2) You're awesome!

3) You reviewed.

4) You're awesome!

So, here is the next chapter. I will be updating regularly now that I know there are people who actually like this. Please review if you love me.

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** 2****:**

Messiah

Ichigo knew. He liked to think he had known the moment it had happened, because the birds had ceased their song. And it seemed to him, that though it was still day, the land was cold and dark. And he knew. He knew because of the ache deep inside him. He knew because of the feeling in his chest, as though a Hole had been ripped right through.

And he wondered to himself, just how much he had taken for granted. He had spent his entire life fighting for his home, protecting it, and her, from the evil that threatened to devour them. And yet, he had failed to protect the more precious of the two, when She needed him the most.

He was a fool. He knew that. He wasn't a brave and perfect hero, who did everything right and never failed to save everyone, no matter the circumstances. He was just the opposite. He made mistakes. Deadly mistakes. Mistakes that cost him the lives of people dear to his heart. But he couldn't think about that. He couldn't dwell on the past, when there were so many things wrong with the present. He couldn't,_ wouldn't_ lose another person he cared about. It had been bad enough when Rukia had been taken. That had been like an ache inside his chest that wouldn't go away, not until he saw Rukia and knew that she was safe, and he was the one who had saved her. This... this was like something inside him that he hadn't noticed had gone missing. But it was important. And now that it was gone, he realized how much he _needed _it. He had saved Rukia, he would save Orihime too, and anyone else who needed saving for that matter.

Yes, he knew the horrors that awaited him in the land where shadows reigned. He knew that, strong as he was, it _wasn't_ enough. That was the reason he had become so strong in the first place. So that _no one_ would have to die because of him. He knew he wasn't a superhero. He knew he couldn't protect everybody in the world. This knowledge slowly poisoned him on the inside, this helplessness.

One of his dear friends had been stolen, from underneath his very nose, and he had done nothing to stop it. He knew it was most likely to late. He didn't know why his enemies wanted Orihime. She could be dead already. And he was afraid. He had to admit it to himself. He didn't want to die, he had a life to live. And he was going to go willingly into a wasteland ruled by a Black King with a blacker heart who happened to have a God-complex the size of Tokyo. The thought of entering that hell willingly, facing that soulless monster Aizen, cased fear to build inside him until he could taste it.

_Fear_

But if he didn't at least try to save her, how could he ever live with himself? He was selfish, so selfish it sickened him.

_Courage_

His friends were all that was left to him now that his family was gone, he would protect them; he would save them. He would rescue Orihime, because she was important. To him, to everyone. His friends were all he had now, all that mattered to him now. Rukia, Chad, Uryu, Renji... and her. Orihime. The one that he hadn't been able to protect. His gentlest friend, trapped in a place that no one had ever returned from alive, a land where Nightmares lived and walked and _breathed_; living beings.

_One revered, one hated, yet the line between the two is blurred_

The thought made his blood boil, and his vision bleed with a red haze. He wasn't going to lose this time. His resolve was strong.

_Because courage is not the absence of fear_

He would save Orihime. He would be the Knight in Shining armor. He would bring her and all who helped him safely home. He would rescue the princess or die trying.

_It is the strength to overcome it_

_

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_

End.

Right. There we are then. Hope all of you like it! The moment you review, there will be another chapter. Till then, no more. Not even a drop of a new chapter. Cue Evil-Laugh. Wait, hang on, my evil laugh sucks... Cue Never-Mind. Anyways, my point is, please review my ducklings, I beg thee! Press that enchanted button! Good things will happen!


	3. Flames

Disclaimerx2(because last chapter I forgot): I once knew a girl, whose name was Boats and Birds, who wrote out a disclaimer, like this one, for every chapter of her story. Do you know what happened to her? She went mad. Not mine. Don't really want it, getting sick of saying that I don't want it.

A/N: Well, this is chapter three, and from Orihime's point of view. Kinda. The last one was from Ichigo, so I figured it was about time for another bout of angst. A chapter from Mr. Dragon- I mean Ulquiorra's point of view is up next, so fear not my fellow cuatro lovers! Although depending on how today goes, I don't know If I shall be able to update until tomorrow. To my awesome reviewers; There are no words out there for how awesome you are. Anne the fire, HaloteveCV, summerrayah, and blackwingsgreeneyes, I love you all! If you review for this chapter, I will literally jump through the computer and give you all hugs. Except I don't think that's possible... Oh well! Enjoy!

** 3:**

Flames

The loneliness destroyed her after a while. The Espada would visit her occasionally, and though unable to harm her physically as Aizen had commanded, the powerful Arrancars would abuse her verbally. They taunted Orihime, making cruel comments about the weakness of her friends. _"If they come to save you, little Princess, we'll kill them all. One by one. And we'll make you watch. Maybe we'll save Kurosaki for last, eh?" _The tall one, Nnoitra, she thought his name was, has told her that. Orihime didn't like the way he looked at her, didn't like it at all, and the things he told her... they made her shudder inside.

And though she tried not to show it, the "little Princess" was afraid. Terrified. Terrified that what the Arrancar said was true. Terrified that her friends would come, and try to save her, and be killed. The poisonous lies they whispered tore her apart, and she sank. Slowly, but surely, Orihime was sinking, and nothing, no one, could save her. She didn't want them to.

The only thing that kept her sane, was the thought of her- no. She would not think of Ichigo as her love, he was not hers. He never had been, and he never would be. _Ichigo_, who was now safe. It did not occur to her even for an instant to feel resentment towards her friends for not rescuing her, to feel anger at being forced to give up her freedom, her resentment was saved for other things. The only coherent wish that pierced her deadened stupor, was the fervent prayer that her friends would not come to save her. Because if they arrived to rescue her, to take her away from this hopeless place, they would die.

Orihime supposed that she had always lived in a fairytale. Even now, here she was, the Princess, locked away in a tower waiting for her Prince to come and save her. But it wasn't the same. This wasn't a fairytale any more. Because she didn't want the Prince to come and save her. He couldn't. And Orihime, the Princess, would fade away here in this cell, but at least her friends would be safe.

The Espada had immense strength and skill, the children of this Hollow World. She had seen it. They were creatures born of the darkest of nightmares, which not even Ichigo, the strongest person she knew, could overcome. He would be destroyed, and there was no question that it would be her fault. After all, was that not the purpose of her captivity? To protect him, and all her friends? Chad, and Renji, and Uryu, dear Uryu, and Rukia... well, Rukia would be happy with Ichigo, wouldn't she? They would be happy together. And they would forget, slowly but surely, that Orihime had ever been their friend in the first place. Maybe that was for the best.

Surprisingly, the one thing that Orihime looked forward to here in this colorless place were the visits from her caretaker, Ulquiorra. Unlike the other Espada that called Hueco Mundo home, he was not monstrous, nor needlessly cruel. Rather, he was stoic and emotionless. She knew that he was loyal to Aizen only, she knew that he would kill Ichigo if he was given the chance, she knew that if Aizen ordered him to kill _her_, he would. But... he was different from the others, and though he had kidnapped her, she felt pity for him. She couldn't hate him. This was a surprising revelation, but it was true. Alone in her room, she had tried many times to be angry, to be cold, to hate Ulquiorra for ripping her viciously out of her fairytale world and bringing her here, but she couldn't. She didn't know what to think of that. Did it mean that her fairytale life hadn't been as perfect as she had always thought? It confused her, this feeling of not-knowing, and she sensed somehow that it all came from him. Ulquiorra.

One day, as he had strolled into her room, pale face completely blank as usual, pushing the cart of food with him, she had looked up from her scratchy, lumpy couch, and met his eyes. And she had frozen. Because they were beautiful, his eyes. She didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before. Such a vivid color of green, they reminded her of springtime, or perhaps life. She had held his gaze as minutes slid by, entranced, unable to look away, because it was so long since she had seen color. It was so long since she had seen beauty. Even her own bright hair seemed to dim in this place. But his eyes, his eyes were full of color, startling in such a white face. And then, the strangest thing had happened. Ulquiorra had looked away.

From that time on, the fear she had once had of her silent captor had slid away and left her completely. Even if he were to tie her down and force food down her throat, as he so often threatened to do, she did not think she would be afraid of him, and she could not explain why. Perhaps it was because he looked so human.

But deep down, Orihime knew, that his eyes were her core reason. Though she tried to convince herself otherwise, she firmly believed; the cuatro Espada had a heart.

As she sat quietly in her cell, hour after hour, she quickly lost track of time. How many days had passed, she did not know. She spent most of her time gazing out at the roof of the world, trapped in perpetual night and dotted with faint stars like holes in black velvet, and wondering if her friends were gazing at the same sky. She hated herself at times, because she secretly wished that Ichigo would come and take her away from this living death.

But that was selfish, and wrong. He needed to stay away from here, stay where it was safe. More and more now, the Princess would close her empty eyes and try to call to mind the memories of the life she had once known, her friends, what color looked like; Ichigo. More and more often, the memories eluded her. She could not recall what blue looked like, or green, and the only red was her hair, now limp and dull. Ichigo's face, too, escaped her, and there were days when the despair of this weighed her down like stones had been placed on her shoulders. She wanted to remember him, she loved him still, but something inside her was broken now; and somehow Orihime thought that even if she returned home, she could never be fixed. Never again.

_If I were the rain, _

_That connects the earth and sky,_

_Could I connect the hearts of people as well?_

_

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_

End

Done! Yay! Please review and tell me how I did. I think Orihime's slowly spiraling into despair. And least our favorite Dragon Boy is there to give her some comfort. Except that Ulquiorra doesn't do comfort. Well, at least his eyes are pretty. Review pwetty please! Kisses to all!


	4. Black Moon

Disclaimer: Me no owns Bleach. But I do own Ulquiorra! In my dreams at least.

A/N: Well, here we are at last. Ulquiorra's chapter. The next one will be Aizen's. This one is the shortest of all, but I like to think it's poignant enough to get the point across. Short but sweet, eh? To me, although I don't think he would ever show it, Orihime is unsettling to our dear dragon Boy. He doesn't know what to make of her, and her heart. I tried to keep him in character as much as possible. Tell me how I did, I beg of thee. And to my always lovely reviewers? You move me to tears! Continue with this! Onward!

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** 4:**

Black Moon

'The girl is strong.' Ulquiorra thinks to himself frequently, 'And yet, were she to fight me, or any of the Hollows here, she would be killed in an instant.' This girl has a different kind of strength. Quiet, calm, and forgiving. When she speaks of her brave _Ichigo_, when she insists that he will not come and save her, that he will have the sense to stay away, burning determination sets her silver eyes afire.

It unnerves him. _She _unnerves him. He has never met anything like this strange human girl, who wears her emotions so freely, so proudly. Her vibrancy, the life and color brimming in her, overflowing from her every action, is out of place and alien in these silent white halls. Perhaps Ulquiorra and his Hollow World are as unfamiliar and strange to this girl, as her shining hair and beating heart are to he and his kind.

Ulquiorra's thoughts frequently flash to Ichigo as well. This man the girl has such faith in, and loves so dearly. Ulquiorra feels, as much as he is able to feel, resentment for this petty boy. He cannot fathom why the idiot would even attempt to rescue the woman. Does he not know it is a fool's mission? Trying to take the Sun out of their hands, the sheer gall of this... this _child _appalls him. He will tear this Kurosaki apart, and prove that hope does not exist. Not for her. Not anymore.

_My eyes see all_

He will rip that confidence off her face.

_They cleave the Earth and Sky, and penetrate the Heavens._

He will break her down completely. Her spirit will shatter like glass before his mighty wrath.

_Yet there is one thing that, strain though they might, they cannot perceive._

His very existence has no meaning, no point other than to serve his Lord.

_What is a Heart, Girl?_

And neither does hers. He _will_ make her understand that.

_If I ripped open your chest, could I see it?_

And in the end, he will see the sympathy, the compassion and forgiveness in her eyes when she looks at him, fade away. It will be replaced by hate. And hate he knows how to deal with.

_If I tore apart your skull, could I find it there?_

He will crush her delusions, one by one, and make the Princess realize the truth.

_What is a Heart?_

There is no such thing.

* * *

End

Viola! Depressing, angsty, and... depressing I guess. All in one. Well, I'm super happy right now, Because I thought I wasn't going to be able to post this until tomorrow, but I'm posting it tonight! Yippe ki yay! Review, and I'll give you all copies of Tale of Two Cities! Which I am reading! So review! And happy valentine's day loves.


	5. Petals

Disclaimer:

Me: Must I?

Grimmjow: **beep **yes! You **beeeeep beep beep!**

Me: ... Wow, Aizen was right. You _do_ like your insults.

Grimmjow:** beeping **shut up.

Me: Nice job on the censoring though, Yachiru!

Yachiru: *grins*

A/N: Okay. I don't own Bleach. Sorry for that bout of weird random third person-ness, but I just love Grimmjow. And Yachiru. She's so... pink. Well, the story format is going to be changing up in the next couple of chapters, with the exception of the next one, so expect a more action oriented style from now on, unless you really love this one. The events of the story hold straight and true with cannon until the end, which changes up a bit and leaves you hanging, because I'm evil like that. Just wanted to let you know. I probably won't be updating until late tomorrow night, and I apologize! Thanks to my reviewers, love you all, and I think I'm going to write a Ulquihime valentine's day special and dedicate it to all of you! Kisses!

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** 5:**

Flowers

They call him mad. Heartless, ruthless, cruel. A Black King. His children, the Arrancar, respect him, those ridiculous Shinigami at the Sereitei fear and despise him. Aizen is, if nothing else, perceptive. He knows how hated he is, he knows the ugly names he is called behind his back by even his own subordinates (Grimmjow in particular, seems to have a perchance for the insults). It doesn't deter him in the slightest. Aizen is not insane, he is brilliant. Brilliant enough to defeat and outwit his opponents in every way. He views life as a large game of chess, one might say. Strategy and power is everything. He knows he is heartless, yes. He wants it that way. Having a heart makes you weak, and in this life and death struggle, this ploy of foxes and hounds, predator and prey, the weak are the first to perish.

He looks down at his army, this fierce band of Espada that _he_ has created, and knows that the power he holds is unequaled by any he has ever seen. He understands that he is unbeatable, unstoppable. He is invincible; nothing can touch him. He rules this world with an iron will, rather than hand. Despite Aizen's reputation for being bloodthirsty, he would rather deceive than slaughter, rather manipulate his enemy than crush him. His outer facade is polite and kind, but nothing could be farther from the truth.

White. It is his favorite, oddly enough, and the irony of that simple fact is not lost on him. The symbolism, the chastity it possesses, he has made a mockery of it's innocence by taking it as his own. White. His palace, his clothes, everything around him is this lifeless color. A pure exterior to hide the darkness within. His children, the powerful hollows that owe him their existence, are perhaps the only beings he cares for, though the affection is twisted, and yet he trusts none of them - save perhaps Ulquiorra - for trust does not factor into his ruling. He cannot rely on anyone but himself.

_Kings, rulers, dictators, all strive for power; for greatness_

He is alone, but not lonely. He has crafted his Heuco Mundo, his Hollow World with a master's hand, but he is apart from it still.

_Yet none of them, no matter how strong or wise, have ever been like God_

He is the Black King, sitting in his kingdom at the end of his chessboard, confident in his overwhelming power. He lets his pawns carry out his orders, and slowly, his enemies come to him.

_In my kingdom, we are like a flowers on a precipice_

And before he kills them, he will destroy them completely from the inside. Mental torture is so much more effective than physical pain, after all.

_Admired and feared because of our audacity to grow close to the sky_

His knights will move through the white pawns of the enemy, weakening and murdering, and Aizen will watch from his throne as they obliterate all who stand in his way.

_Yet I will reach out and touch the sky_

And then, from the shadows of his kingdom, he will emerge, as King, as Dictator, as Tyrant, as _God_, and gaze upon the ruins, the carnage that he has orchestrated. He will spread his darkness to every corner of the world.

All will despair.

_Yes. I will sit atop the heavens_

_

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_

End

Eh em *cough God-complx the size of Tokyo cough cough* Well, there we are then. I tried to write Aizen as a manipulative you-know-what with a huge ego. He'd a brilliant guy, even though he's so evil I just wanna strangle him sometimes. I think he's a bit loony, if you know what I mean, so I tried to add craziness to his mental rant. Review and I'll give you a map to the leprechaun's gold! Huggles!


	6. Hollow World

Disclaimer: In how mant different languages, I wonder, can I say I don't own Bleach? The answer? One.

A/N: Okay. This chapter is even shorter than the last one, and its' really strange. I portrayed Hueco Mundo as a living being, almost an entity. This chapter is from Hueco Mundo's point of view. It isn't really a person, just sort of an ubiquitous sentient thing. I don't know how to explain it really *grins awkwardly* that's just how I see it. I hope you all understand this.

Okay. Now I was letting my cousin (also my beta, in a way) read this, and he tells me, "Well, I like it, but you need another chapter in between this one and the next." I agreed with him, because he's the best author I know and he's always right (darn him!). But when I sat down to write, I could think of nothing! So.

I need you all to give me your ideas on who I should write the chapter about. It can be a lot of people, but the person has to have significance to the story. For example, one of the Orihime rescue team, or the main Espada, heck, you can say "Tree" or, "Orihime's brother" and I won't have a problem with it. I'll pick the one I think fits best, and write a chapter about it. Put the idea in a review or PM me kay? That you all and can't wait to get the input. Thank you my beautiful, gorgeous readers!

* * *

**6:**

Hollow World

Hueco Mundo was a hollow world. It had always been so, since the beginning of time, and It always would be, until the end of life. It was not hell, as the Shinigami believed, and though Aizen's guess was slightly more accurate, he too was incorrect in his assumption. Hueco Mundo was not heaven, and It was not hell. Heuco Mundo was nothing. Hueco Mundo was empty, a hollow world. The Hollows that dwelled in Hueco Mundo were beings of nothingness as well, constantly fueled to kill, to devour, because of their need to fill up the emptiness that they were made of; to live and feel again.

There was no life in Hueco Mundo, and there was no color. There was simply the sand, and the wind, and the bleak desert sky. A wasteland. A dead world. Nothing could live there, how could they? Creatures of color could not survive in such a dreary land. When Aizen and his two minions had appeared, it had seemed at first that they were alive, and Hueco Mundo had marveled. But in time, the Black King and his Companions proved to be as lifeless as any Hollow. They were colorful on the outside, but on the inside they were as empty and bleak as the world where they now lived.

And Hueco Mundo had despaired, even as It had hung It's head in hopelessness, because no creature of Life and Color would ever be seen on It's desert plains. And then. Then she had come. A girl, a human girl, colorful on the outside as no Hollow had ever been, her spirit shining so brightly that it blinded the land so used to the dark. With her came warmth, and light, and in her shining hair and strange eyes there came new feelings, new sensations. And Hueco Mundo stood in awe. It clung to this strange, kaleidoscope girl with all It's might. She _must_ stay, this girl, she must stay; because she was the only glimpse of the sun the nighttime world of Hueco Mundo would ever have. She was life. She was color. She was _hope_.

_There is no meaning in this world._

_

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_

End

Well, that was it. Weird? Freaky? Strange to the extreme? Yes. But it's unique! At least I think it is... Anyways, please remember to give me your ideas. And review :) Love you all!


	7. Bring Them Home

Disclaimer: Allow me to compose myself. I don't! Flippin! Own! Bleach!

A/N: Thank you, you two who gave me ideas for this chapter and the next. You guys are awesome sauce!

**Anne the fire: **I had honestly never though of writing something from Urahara's point of view, but when I read your review this chapter just formed in my mind. It was really cool. So, I give you all the credit, and tell you that this chapter at least half belongs to you.

**HaloteveCV: **You too, are awesome. I've written things from Rukia's perspective before, and I find it a little too easy, so I decided to go with Renji, whom I've never written. Next chapter, or the chapter after the next chapter therefore, will be from Renji's POV. Thank you so much!

Thanks so much guys, for the creative inspiration, and hope you like this. I got to thinking about Urahara, and I figured that a lot of stuff in this story happened directly or indirectly because of him. And I figured, when he's alone, he would blame himself for it, because not even Urahara can be happy go lucky all the time. Thus this brainchild was born. I also like how Yoruichi turned out, but tell me what you think. This might be my favorite chapter so far. Oy Vay!

**7:**

**Bring Them Home**

_"We're gonna find her, Hat 'n Clogs. Don't you worry bout us."_

That's what Ichigo had said. That determined, nothing's-gonna-stop-me-so-don't-get-in-my-way look had been on his face too. That alone should have kept Urahara from worrying. But…

He couldn't shake that eerie feeling that this… that this was all his fault. He had said those things to her, told her she was too weak, told her she couldn't fight alongside all her friends in the war. It had hurt to be so harsh with someone so gentle, but it had been necessary. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he had once again done something truly terrible; another deed to add to the list of Things-To-Blame-Himself-Over. There had been a shattered look on Orihime's face, like something inside her had suddenly burst into a million pieces, and she couldn't quite figure out how to put it back together again.

And Urahara had felt almost sickeningly guilty. He knew it was the worst thing that someone could be told, that they wouldn't have a chance to fight alongside and protect their friends, but he had had no choice. Although her heart was large, and her healing power formidable, there was no denying that of all her friends, Orihime was the least physically capable of defending herself. It was almost certain that, if she were to fight in the war, she would die. Urahara could not let that happen. And then there was his real reason for denying the girl's wishes. Aizen. Urahara was not an idiot, no matter how ridiculous he might act. His brilliance was on level with Aizen's himself, and because of this, Urahara could predict, to a certain extent, what the smug bastard was thinking.

Urahara knew that Orihime's… ability, was rare, unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was not healing, although he did not really know what else to call it. It was something else, something unique. And Aizen, he knew, would not overlook this. He had attempted to protect the girl, to keep her away from Aizen and his watchful interest, but he had failed. The girl was gone. Kidnaped by the Arrancar, whom he had helped create. And he had sent her friends after her to die. Everything was happening because of him, because he had created the Hogyoku in the first place. He had done this. This was _his _fault.

"Kisuke."

The downward spiral of his thoughts broke off, and he turned his head slightly. A black cat was sitting next to him on the ground, staring at the gate Ichigo and his friends had gone through just a few hours ago. Yoruichi turned wise yellow eyes to her long time friend.

"Ah, hello there Yoruichi. What brings you here?"

"I figured they'd try something stupid like this. I came to cheer you up."

"I don't need to be cheered up Yoru. I just need to… to…"

Ha fell silent, unsure of what to say, and that made him uneasy, because he was never unsure. Cocky? Yes. Confident? Most assuredly. Handsome, suave, and charming? To a fault. Unsure of himself? Never.

"You blame yourself."

Urahara winced. Damn that cat, and the way she always seemed to see right through him, to know exactly what he was thinking.

"I…"

"You do, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you're an idiot."

She said it simply, matter of fact, and with such calm assurance that Urahara did something he also never did, and got angry.

"How can you say that? Of course I blame myself, it's all my fault! I created the Hogyoku, it's my fault that it exists in the first place! And the things I said to Orihime; they drove her away to become stronger, and she was kidnapped. And now, sending a bunch of kids into a living hell, to be slaughtered by a sadist with an army of monsters-" he was shouting now, and he lowered his voice and dropped his head into his hands.

"How the hell can you say it's not my fault?" he finished weakly.

"Because." Yoruichi said calmly, and Urahara peered up an her bleakly from between his fingers. "Did you know? When you created the Hogyoku, did you know what Aizen was going to use it to do?"

Urahara hesitated a moment, then shook his head grudgingly.

"No."

"And when you told Orihime she couldn't fight in the war, you knew that Aizen had his eye on her. You were trying to protect her."

"For all the good it did." Urahara muttered. Yoruichi amiably ignored him.

"And as for Ichigo and his friends, if you hadn't helped them he would have found another way through. That boy's a terror when his friend's are in danger."

Urahara snorted, but his face was out of his hands.

"I just, I can't help feeling that I've sent them to their deaths." he said desperately. Guilt. So much guilt. It was a dark shadow that followed him constantly, one he could never fully shake.

"Then you don't know Ichigo." Yoruichi said calmly. Urahara took this, grasped on to it like a drowning man, turned it over in his head, and conceded that his friend was right. Ichigo would bring his friends, and Orihime, home safely. It was who the boy was; a Hero.

"Thank you, my friend." he whispered to the black cat. There was a flash, a puff of smoke, and then brown arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug.

"You know I hate it when you beat yourself up like this."

For a moment, just a moment, Urahara relaxed into his friends arms.

"I know. Now, Yoruichi?"

"Hm?"

"Go put some clothes on. Please."

After his friend had left the underground room, Urahara resumed his blank staring. The depression had lifted, but the ache of worry was still there.

_Please._

They didn't know what they were up against, those stupid kids.

_When I was a child, I used to make wishes on every star in the sky._

They didn't know what was waiting for them, and _damn_ it if he wasn't worried.

_I'm wishing again now, after all these years._

The things Yoruichi had said, they were true. He was very lucky to have a friend like her.

_Please stars._

He sighed, turned, and headed for the ladder that lead up to his shop. Maybe he would make some tea.

_Bring them home._

_

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_

End.

Well my pretties, that was hard! But also very rewarding. Review if you love me (which I know you do) and once again thanks to Anne the fire and HaloteveCV. You guys are the rule of cool!


	8. Fragments

Disclaimer: Once upon a time... there was a girl named Boats and Birds... and she didn't own Bleach. The end.

A/N: Well, here I am after an extremely long hiatus, for which I am extremely sorry! I can explain! I have a really good excuse! I had Whooping Cough. Man, it is nasty! I coughed so hard I went momentarily blind, I coughed so hard I threw up, I coughed so hard I turned myself inside out (well, practically)! The drug- I mean pain medication I was on made my hands so shaky I couldn't type. So, I'm really sorry, but here I am at last!

**8:**

**Fragments  
**

Ichigo has come so far, lost so much, fought so many. In this barren, dessert world, he and his friends have risked their lives countless amounts of times to reach this place. The Arrancar that live here are terrifying, yes, and impossibly strong. But none of them have what he does; someone to fight for, die for, live for. He has to live, so that he can save her. Orihime. He won't lie down and die like a coward, not while one of his friends is still in captivity. So he fights, even when it seems like he _can't_ win.

He stares up at the castle in front of him, white as snow in the moonlight, and the irony of the color is not lost on him. He is afraid, so afraid, that if he enters this place he will not come back out alive. Yet… he turns his eyes up to the nighttime sky. It has been so long since he has seen the sun, and he is weak, and tired, but when he lays eyes on that heat, that light again, none of this will matter. He will find the sun, even if it costs him his life.

_Courage is not the absence of fear, but the strength to overcome it._

Ulquiorra ponders, as he watches the girl sit silent by her barred window, exactly what she has done to him. She is truly like nothing, no one, he has ever encountered before, and though at first she unnerved him… now he cannot say what he feels. His life used to be simple, straightforward. There was nothing even remotely confusing about it. He served Aizen, the one who had created him faithfully, loyally; the Black King had no better subordinate than he. He was hollow, emotionless, an empty husk on the outside, and nothing within. He preferred it that way. No feelings, no emotions, no heart. When he was called upon, he would transform into a horrifying monster and fly away to destroy, to kill, to burn. But this girl… try as he might, he _cannot _understand her.

He has poured over every book in Aizen's extensive library, and somewhere he vaguely remembers reading about something called an Angel. They are beings of light and purity, he recalls, and they can do no harm to anyone, no matter how evil. They are beautiful, and gentle, and they bring hope to those who have none. This girl must be an Angel, he concludes, and though the sentiment means nothing to him, he feels strange inside. Because if this girl is an Angel (and surely, there is no other explanation for her) than that undoubtedly means that he is a Demon.

_What is a heart?_

Renji is used to death. He has seen it so many times his heart has become hardened to it. He has watched friend after friend fall in front of him, experienced that heart wrenching sorrow every time. _I'm not strong enough. I'm never strong enough. _It was true.

Renji can remember Rukia's execution, remember it like it was hours ago. He can see it so clearly; that time when he had almost stood back and watched his best friend die. Maybe, maybe that's why he is here in the first place. He can see it, in Ichigo's eyes, the same look that he knows must have been in his own when Rukia's life was in danger, and he understands better than anyone what the carrot top is feeling. So, here he is, risking his life on a suicide mission, because even though he doesn't know her very well, damn it if Orihime isn't one of the nicest people he's ever met. She is important to Ichigo. She is important to Rukia. Hell, she's important to him.

So here he is. Risking his own damn life. Protecting Rukia (even if she doesn't know it), hoping to save Orihime.

And if he never gets out of here alive?

He hopes he'll get to say goodbye to Rukia. One last time.

_You'll never know the truth._

_

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_

End~

Viola! I sincerely hope that was good enough to make up for the wait. Sorry again everybody! Revie- aw, you guys know the drill. This is me, putting duct tape on my mouth. Mmmph.


	9. The Hole Where a Heart Should Be

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. Bet you're all shocked.

A/N: Sorry once again that this took so long to update, things have been getting crazy around here. Anyhow, here's the next chapter, and I will try to update by Sunday, I swear it. For some reason I'm very fond of this chapter.

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**The Hole Where a Heart Should Be**

Hollow's have no souls. Without a heart, there can be no soul. And there is an empty place in Ulquiorra's chest where a heart should be. He looks back on the horrible things he has done, and the blood he has shed, and he feels nothing, no emotions whatsoever. That is what separates him from his fellow Espada. To feel emotions, he knows, you must have a heart, and that is something he lacks (lacks a heart he lacks it he has never had a heart). It has never troubled him before. He looked down upon the world with an indifferent eye, living and working for no purpose but Aizen's.

But now. Now. Now that he has met this… this _girl, _this woman, his entire world has been torn apart and patched together again, unfamiliar to him. The girl has changed him. There are things inside him that were not there before, and although they bring pain, they are also fascinating, intriguing. He wants to know more. What _is _a heart? He feels that this girl might show him after all. So, when he strides down the long white corridor, posture ramrod straight, hands relaxed in his pockets, and arrives at the girl's cell only to find that the door has been torn apart, the woman is gone, something indescribable fills him. A burning, irrepressible emotion that blurs crimson behind his eyes and roars in his ears. The two lowly Arrancar females standing there quaking flinch when he speaks to them, obviously expecting death.

"What is the meaning of this." his voice is still dead, emotionless, his riatsu completely under control.

"It was... it was Grimmjow, Ulquiorra-sama." one of the girls stammers.

"Grimmjow." he says, deadly calm, nothing showing on his face. The blue haired Espada _has_ been here, his loud, obnoxious riatsu practically slapping Ulquiorra in the face, and Ulquiorra has an inkling of a suspicion as to what the fool might have come here for. He whirls, striding calmly down the hall with a measured pace.

He can feel her, the girl, although he isn't sure how, feel the heat, the light that spills from her like she is truly a miniature sun. His senses are far above that of a human's, and within no time at all he is able to locate her, in one of the obscure towers on the outer edge of Los Noches. He hisses to himself, an unusual display of outward anger, and blurs away to the place he had left Ichigo Kurosaki's body to rot.

When he arrives, the scene is what he has expected, the girl (bruised and battered and more beaten than he has ever seen her look) is frantically trying to recall Kurosaki to life, and Grimmjow watches with hungry, eager eyes.

"Hurry it up bitch, or Ulquiorra going to catch-" the blue haired Espada freezes, sensing Ulquiorra directly behind him. Grimmjow whirls, and sky blue eyes meet emerald green. There is a predatory sort of expression on Grimmjow's wild face, lips pulled back in a smirk to reveal sharp teeth. Pointless dialogue is exchanged, and Ulquiorra is painfully conscious of the fact that Grimmjow seems to be attempting to provoke him into a fight, but his eyes are on the girl. She stands there, skin pale, bruises showing on her skin like ink splatters on thin parchment, and she will not meet his eyes. Ah. She knows, then. She knows who it was that killed her precious "Kurosaki-kun". Ulquiorra feels a sort of satisfaction. Perhaps the girl will realize now that he, Ulquiorra, has the power to tear away everything that is dear to her, that 'love' or whatever this ridiculous emotion that she feels for this Kurosaki is foolish, and breakable. Ulquiorra is satisfied. So why is the skin around his hole burning like it has been set on fire?

"The girl has been entrusted to me by Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra says softly (soft but deadly oh so deadly) to Grimmjow. As much pleasure as it would give him to tear off the idiot's head right here and now, Aizen-sama might not be pleased to lose his 6th Espada a second time.

"Hand her over."

"Blow me." Ulquiorra blinks, and then the two arrancar are clashing in the air. But even as he wards off Grimmjow's attacks, his eyes are on the girl. She is standing by the golden sphere her power has created, holding a small child in her arms. Her eyes are too faraway to see, but there are lines of pain on her face. Ulquiorra is not invincible (no not invincible not invincible but close to it), and he has experienced pain. Pain is relative, however, a large percentage of it is felt in the mind, and Ulquiorra has never taken any heed of it. Pain, like anything else, can be controlled. The pain on this girl's face, however, does not seem to stem from a physical injury (although she has those yes bruises and cuts and scrapes). This pain is of a different kind.

"You're afraid to fight me." Ulquiorra turns his eyes to Grimmjow in time to block a cero, leaping into the air in a cloud of smoke, his face entirely composed. A hand pulls his jacket open. Ulquiorra cuts his eyes to the side, expecting an attack, but a small black cube falls from Grimmjow's hand into his hole instead. Ulquiorra has seem cubes like this before. He knows what they do. This will perhaps inconvenience him. The blackness explodes from his chest, snaking around him and trapping him in.

"Damn." he says, quite calmly, the expression on his face never changing. The moment before his face is covered, he eyes meet those of the girl's. There is something in them that Ulquiorra cannot quite classify. Ulquiorra has never been unable to classify something. His hole is burning (burning burning he has never felt a heat like this). The blackness closes in, and there is nothing.

_A memory of something lost?_

_Or a memory of something I have never had._

_

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_

End

Well, there we are. Whew! That was exhausting! Not :) Anyways, read and review puh-lease.


	10. Enemies and Masks

**Author's Note: Everyone, I am so, so sorry that I haven't been uploading, I am not dead I swear, and this fic is far from finished. I've just been going through some things, sorting stuff out, trying to get ready for college next year. I'm freakin' sorry already! Just kidding. Anyhow, I apologize really, truly, and sincerely to all of you. Please forgive me. Please please please. And because this is spring break, I was able to write a ton of chapters, so I will be uploading next tusday or wedsday at the latest. Once again, I really do apologize for the apparent deadness of my story. Anyways, I'm really fond of this chapter, so there you are then.**

Disclaimer: *sigh* Tite Kubo + Awesome art skillz = Bleach. Boats and Birds = Awesome stick figure skillz = crap. Get it?

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**Masks**

Orihime had always seen more then people gave her credit for. Because she was somewhat clumsy, and she acted as though her brain wasn't always switched on, her friends tended to be more open around her. Less guarded. Orihime was never sure if she did this on purpose or not. But because people tended to drop their masks around her, or at least let them slip, Orihime had came to realize that these masks were common. It seemed everyone wore one. A mask to shut people out, and keep feelings in. A mask to hide pain.

Orihime sometimes wondered if even she wore masks. She imagined herself waking up every morning and walking into her closet, seeing rack after rack full of brilliantly colored masks lined along the walls. 'Which mask will I wear today?' she would say thoughtfully, and then she would stretch out a hand and choose one (_rainbow colored or feathered or maybe even sequined_). She would place it on her face, and the mask would mold so close to her skin that there was no space in between. Then the mask would morph, become Orihime's own face, but now there was something different when she looked in the mirror. Now there was a shield up around her feelings, and her thoughts.

At one time, a vision like this would have made Orihime laugh, but not now. Not after this. Besides, this vision was less like the old daydreams she used to have, filled with blue men and pretend dates with Ichigo and the occasional sumo wrestler. This vision felt real; felt almost frightening. Orihime wasn't even sure why she was imagining this right now, wasn't sure why she was imagining something so clearly ridiculous when the scene around her was anything but, but for some reason the image of the rows of masks would not leave her brain.

It was like someone had pushed the 'off' button inside her mind, and she couldn't quite figure out how to turn it on again. She could feel Nel clinging to her leg, sobbing and muttering to herself, she could feel the slight drain on her energy as she struggled to keep her shield intact in front of her. She could see the explosions of light, the waves of spiritual pressure that went rushing over her every time the two figures in the distance clashed, but she didn't even blink. And then she wondered if maybe, the reason she was thinking about these real, human masks, was to keep the image of another mask away.

Nel screamed, louder then she had been before, and Orihime turned dull gray eyes up to the streaks of deadly blue light rushing towards her. Time slowed, her eyes widened, and the azure blades barreling straight at her bled the strangest emerald green.

"_Itsygo_!"

Orihime opened her eyes (_when had she shut them, she didn't remember shutting her eyes_), and stared at the black clad figure in front of her, orange head bowed. Smoke was billowing from his back, and Orihime's eyes followed a drop of blood as it slid off Ichigo's tattered clothing and plummeted towards the ground. For a moment, the image of a fairytale knight flashed in front of her; the sort of handsome prince who always comes rushing to the damsel's aid, and always saves the day. But Ichigo was no fairytale prince. He was bleeding, wounded badly, and that never happened to the heroes in fairytales. This wasn't a fairytale. Maybe her life had been once, but it _wasn't anymore. _

Then his head lifted, and golden eyes met hers (_brown eyes brown eyes Ichigo's eyes were brown, warm and brown and gentle_). Orihime felt her entire body jerk, as physically as if a dagger had been driven into her chest, something was blurring her vision; and it was Sora standing in front of her, Sora (_no, no not Sora, Ichigo, Ichigo_) with his twisted mask and his blood red eyes and his claws stabbing into her, wrapping around her, choking her.

Something flickered in those golden eyes staring at her, something broke. Then Ichigo was gone. Orihime wanted to call out after him, to scream that she wasn't afraid of him, that she didn't want him to throw himself into a fight he couldn't win because of her. She wanted to tell him to stop trying to win, to run away, to come with her and escape. But she couldn't. She couldn't say it until she knew it was true. She didn't know if she was afraid or not. The words stuck in her throat and glued it shut.

So she simply stood there, and watched as Ichigo clashed with Grimmjow. Watched, and knew that he was loosing, watched and knew that he was going to die. Watched and died herself. Watched and saw her brother's eyes, glaring at her through the hollow mask.

This was a kill or be killed fight, Orihime knew that. She _knew_ that. But she didn't want to. She didn't want anybody to die. Not ever. Ichigo was so full of life, a fiery passion inside him that burned through his body and a kind nature and gentle spirit that belied his scowling face. He couldn't die, not for her, not in front of her, he didn't deserve death.

And Grimmjow. He was evil, and cruel, and bloodthirsty, and... he reminded her of Ichigo. He was determined, and stubborn, and he had saved her life, even if it was only to repay a debt. Maybe he _did_ deserve death. But Orihime didn't want him to die either. What was she supposed to do (_what do I do what do I do what do I do_)? Standing here, protecting herself and Nel, terror rooting her to the spot and draining the strength from her bones, watching two people in a fight to the death and knowing that she wanted neither of them to win. Did this make her a traitor to her friends? A traitor to Ichigo? That she did not wish death on Grimmjow, even though he was an Arrancar; an enemy? Emerald eyes flashed in her mind, and she choked._ Even though he is my enemy… Ulquiorra…_

"Hey!"

Someone was talking to her, no, screaming at her. Orihime looked down to see Nel staring up at her in tears.

"What are you doing? Why are you not cheering for Itsygo? Why are you not cheering for him to win? He's fighting for you! He attacked Ulquiorra-sama just for saying your name! He's doing this for you!"

And Orihime's insides pulled apart. How could she explain to Nel her feelings? She… she couldn't tell Ichigo to win, she couldn't tell him to fight for her. This was her fault already. She couldn't tell him to win… but maybe… maybe she didn't have to. Maybe she could give him courage in a different way, just by telling him that she believed in him, that she cared. Maybe no one had to die today. She_ did_ believe in Ichigo. And she _wasn't _afraid.

"_Don't die, Kurosaki-kun! You don't have to win, you don't have to keep fighting. Just please! Don't get hurt anymore!"_

_Not for me. You see, I don't deserve it._

_

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_

Well, there we are then loves. Review puh-lease, and tell me what you think. And please don't yell at me for being gone so long, it wasn't my fault. Well, yes it was, but... maybe I should just stop talking._  
_


	11. Of Dolls and Bastards

**A/N: Well, I am once again incredibly sorry this has taken me such a long time to post. I realized suddenly the other day that I had promised to have a new chapter up by two weeks ago. Whoah. I had completely forgotten about it. I am really sorry once again, and I will try to be more on schedule now. This chapter in from Grimmjow's point of view, as I truly do believe he is still alive out there somewhere, just waiting for… well, I'll keep that plot point a secret just yet. Anyhow, because I know some of you will complain about this, no, Grimmjow is not in love with Orihime. He just doesn't know what to do with her. Anyhow, enjoy!**

**11.**

Of Dolls and Bastards

The stars were bright in Hueco Mundo on this particular evening. Grimmjow supposed he wouldn't normally have noticed a thing as simple and trivial as the beauty of the stars, but maybe being close to death did strange things to everyone. Not that he would know, he had no experience with death, or being anywhere near it. Grimmjow was the sort of person who looked death in the eye and dared it to come for him, dared it to try and take him on. Up until tonight (or today, it was so freakin' hard to tell time in this shithole), death had never had the guts. Grimmjow guessed things were different now.

In retrospect, he probably should have known things would turn out like this, Los Noches, hell, all of Hueco Mundo, had been different lately. Even since that porcelain doll of a little girl had come to play. Even the air was different somehow, like there was an electric current running through it where before it had been dead and stagnant. It had taken Grimmjow a few days to figure out what the change was, and who had caused it. The girl. That red-headed bitch. It was her presence here that had started everything, Grimmjow was sure of it. She was the reason the air felt alive for the first time in the countless thousands of years Grimmjow had lived here.

Hueco Mundo was finally waking up, coming alive. It was all that doll-faces fault. And damn if Grimmjow wasn't enjoying every second of it.

He supposed, in his own way, he had the girl to thank for the most fun he'd ever had in the centuries of his existence. He had always had inferiority issues, even back when he was a human (although that time was blurry, and he could barely remember it at all), but in Hueco Mundo he had thrived. It was kill or be killed, and Grimmjow loved to kill. It made him feel alive again. And there was nothing that made him feel alive, that gave him as much of a thrill, as taking down an opponent that was as strong or stronger than he was himself.

And that was why he had the bitch to thank. Because of her, Kurosaki and all her other pathetic (yet admittedly powerful) friends had come to Grimmjow of their own accord, had played right into his hands. And Grimmjow had been ecstatic. But maybe he should have known, that with the change in the air, a change in his luck was about due. And so, here he was, limping slowly across the dessert and leaving a trail of blood behind him, weary and numb to the bone. He supposed, in a way, he was lucky to have gotten away at all. He had managed to scrape up enough energy for one last sonido when Kurosaki had been distracted by Nnoitra's arrival (that bastard that bastard that _bastard _if Grimmjow made it through this alive he was going to slit his throat open first chance he got).

Grimmjow had hauled himself up from the ground and stood there, panting, completely forgotten about by the carrot topped Kurosaki and the bean pole bastard that had almost killed him. He had been shaking. That alone had been embarrassing; Grimmjow never did anything as weak as shaking, but there it was. It had been a mixture of pain, physical exhaustion, and the knowledge that two of his enemies had now saved his life. Damn. First the girl, now Kurosaki? The little brats sure had sickeningly sweet hearts, didn't they?

It had taken him a moment or two to make a decision. It was run away, or stay and be killed. Normally, Grimmjow would have stayed anyway, but in his current state there was absolutely no way he could keep fighting. Almost all of his strength was gone, hell, he barely had enough left in him to sonido out of the dome to safety.

So he had taken a deep breath, steeled himself for the sheer amount of iron will it would take, and at the last moment, just before he had blurred away to the desert, he had looked across the battlefield and locked eyes with the red headed girl. The huge grey orbs boring into his widened, growing even more impossibly large, and it occurred to Grimmjow that she knew what he was about to do. He had tensed himself for a moment, thinking that she would surely do _something, _but some nameless emotion had bled into her silver eyes, and she had shut her mouth tight and turned away.

Now, here he was, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the friggen 6th Espada, the arrancar who up till now had never lost a fight, stumbling along wounded in the desert thinking about some doll faced human bitch and her pack of friends. Almost unconsciously, his hand came up to touch the arm that he had lost to Tousen (another man on his hit list), the arm that, through some strange, God-like power, had been regrown. It was almost an unconscious thing to him now, and although he would never admit it to himself, every time he reached up to touch that particular arm, he half expected it not to be there. And then he would feel it, warm flesh and hard bone flexing muscles, and remember that it was there. It was back. And the face of that red headed girl would flash implicitly through his mind.

It wasn't that Grimmjow didn't understand, it was that he couldn't. How could such a small, thin, tremblingly fragile little thing give him back a missing limb with a few muttered words and a flash of golden light. It half fascinated Grimmjow, and that worried him a little too, because he had never been fascinated with anything before but killing (and himself). So he attempted to explain it away; she was a novelty, that was all. A pretty little human girl with the face of a porcelain doll and the powers of a goddess was a rare sight around the halls of Los Noches, after all.

But that didn't quite explain the feeling he had gotten that time he had burst into the doll's room and kicked the asses of those two bitches that had been knocking the girl around, only to have her turn around and heal them when he told her to heal herself. Grimmjow didn't know how to deal with a person like that. A person who showed compassion, and mercy, a person who loved. A person with a gentle spirit. That was was she was, that human girl, gentle. It practically radiated out of her; her entire riatsu was practically made up of it. And that made Grimmjow uncomfortable, because nothing about Hueco Mundo was ever gentle. That was the way Grimmjow liked it.

And then this bitch had come along and shaken things up. And her little friend Kurosaki, the annoying bastard who just wouldn't give up, had come prancing along after her on his white horse like a knight in shining armor. It was enough to make Grimmjow sick. So he had taunted the kid, told him about what the poor little porcelain doll-face had been made to suffer during her captivity. And it had felt good, that he had taken such a pure, beautiful thing, and tainted it, and he wasn't uncomfortable now. The girl didn't scare him anymore. She had been beautiful, and caring, and _whole_. Now she was broken and dirty. And Grimmjow could understand things that were broken down and dirty. Things like himself.

Maybe little Princess Doll-Face had been living in a fairytale her entire life, Grimmjow couldn't care less. Her fairytale was gone now, her storybook had been ripped apart and burned, and she was all alone. So why had he still felt that uncomfortable pang when he had met the girl's grey eyes back under the dome, and she had looked away and let him go?

For a moment, one split second, Grimmjow almost missed Ulquiorra. Because even though he hated the bastard more than he hated Aizen, Tousen, and Nnoitra all put together (and the worst part was he could never say for sure why), _dammit_ if the guy didn't seem like he always had all the answers. So for one split second, Grimmjow missed the green eyed pretty boy. Then he laughed at himself for being stupid. Not even Ulquiorra could answer this question for him.

The stars were bright this particular evening. Did he notice their beauty because he was dying? Or because somehow, the stars reminded him of a pair of huge grey eyes, and a pair of emerald green ones. Grimmjow didn't know.

_In this world of mine, we fear the things we do not understand_

_And I do not understand either of them_

_The boy with the ice cold eyes who never shows his heart_

_And the girl who wears hers on her sleeve._

**There you have it! Review please!**


	12. Memory

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm so so sorry this is late! I've been taking final exams and getting ready for a trip overseas to a University I'm thinking of attending. The University, by the way, was amazing! Everyone was brilliant! So friendly! But I've been sadly busy for the past month getting ready for the end of the year exams in maths, and it's been horrible. But here I am, apologizing again. This fic is far from dead, I promise, I enjoy writing it so much I could never let it go. This chapter is from a very different perspective, and I'm taking a few creative licenses here, but let's just go with it. I want to thank all of you who have reviewed or messaged me or commented on this story, you don't even know how brilliant you all are.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my own brain. And sometimes I wonder about that too.

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**12.**

Memory

The sun beats down from the too-blue sky and makes the sand shimmer underneath your feet. You stare down at your worst enemy, the man who has made it his mission to make your life a living hell, the man who tortured your friends and dealt you an underhanded blow from behind, reducing you to a mere child, a whimpering, cowering, pathetic shell of your former self.

Your gut twists, and your fingers clench around your lance. Your mind screams at you, tells you to stab the thin bastard through the heart and be done with it. Justice must be had, for his past crimes, and what he has done to Ichigo and his sweet little friend. The two humans are so young… so innocent despite what they have seen, and so very kind hearted. They do not deserve to suffer as much as they have. This man, lying beaten and bloody in front of you, deserves to die.

But as you stand here, poised over him, ready to wipe his existence from the earth, and you find your hand will not move. He looks up at you with one eye, and for once you can't tell what he's thinking. You've always been able to read him better than anyone, except during the times that it really mattered. Even now, it isn't as though he's the sort to beg for his life, you know that. You should just kill him Just cut off his head and be done with it. It will make everything easier.

But you can't. You look at him, and you see another Nnoitra. A Nnoitra from long ago. You see him as he used to be. Carefree, awkward, mischievous... you see him not as Hollow, as a bloodthirsty Espada, but as he used to be. As a human being with too long hair and a bean pole body. You see your best friend. He looks up at you in the here and now, blood spattered across his face, bruises flowering on his pale skin, and you see that look in his eyes that he always has when he looks at you. A confused, searching look, as though he is trying to remember you - but can't. And you think that this is the reason why he has always hated you. And you wish that he would remember like you do, remember back to the times you had together in the human world, before the accident. Remember how happy you both were together.

But he can't. You can. And that's why, standing over him with your lance poised, you hesitate to strike the final blow. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see Orihime rushing to help Ichigo, see the love and concern on her face, and the corners of your mouth turn up in a sad, bitter smile. They remind you of another two young humans that you used to know. A long time ago.

"Goodbye, old friend."

You say softly, and the lance goes hurtling towards his heart. Then it happens. You begin to shrink, to revert back to your childish self. You scream in despair, but inside, you are happy. Because you wouldn't have done it. The lance wouldn't have pierced his heart. You know this. Nnoitra can't die until he's remembered you, remembered why every-time he looks at you there is a strange sense of familiarity.

You wish you could just kill him. It would make everything easier.

_Even when the bonds of friendship and love are broken_

_Drifting threads remain_

_To haunt me in my sleeping hours_

_And in my waking ones._

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Well, there it is! R&R please, if you love me. Sorry once again about the delay.


	13. Kaleidoscope Heart

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! (blushes and shuffles feet) I know, I know, it's been months since I've updated, and I'm really really sorry. I was in South America building houses and helping starving people, so is that a good enough excuse? I got to play with adorable little Latin American children, and give them candy. It was wonderful. Anyhow, this chapter, long, long awaited chapter, is Orihime again. Stark's already kidnapped her, She's had the creep fest with Aizen (which I might do from Aizen's point of view, what do you think?), and now Ulquiorra's there and Orihime's all like, "Crap I'm gonna die." So... yeah.**

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**13:**

Kaleidoscope Heart

It's funny, Orihime thinks to herself, how different colors can be directly linked to each and every important point of her admittedly short life.

When she was younger, still living with Sora in the too-small apartment, her life had been drenched in yellow. Yellow is the happiest color of them all, Orihime firmly believes, so it only makes sense that the very happiest time of her life would be connected to the buttery color in her head. All of the memories of her brother before his death are tinged with yellow, the color of sunshine, the color of joy. And it's funny, because when Orihime thinks about it, she realizes that she hasn't felt that same happiness, hasn't felt _yellow, _for a very long time. Not even with Ichigo. It's funny, except that when Orihime stops to think about it, it isn't really funny at all.

Black. Black is another color that Orihime remembers only too well. Except that, really, black isn't a color at all, is it? It's the absence of color, a deep dark void that no light can ever brighten. Black is the absence of life, and hope, and love. Black is the absence of everything. Black is fear, black is despair, black is empty. Cold and empty and painful. Black is a car crash, and waiting after school for hours for someone that will never come home again, black is screaming and clinging to a body on a stretcher. Black is cold dead hands and a blank dead face. Black is the color of funerals, even though there wasn't one for Sora, wasn't even enough money for a tombstone. Orihime doesn't mind so much about the funeral; no one would have come anyway. So she went to school, and did her homework, and lived all by herself in the small apartment that suddenly seemed to big, and every time she went home from school and ate dinner all alone in a room that was empty it hurt, the Black followed. For months, Black was all Orihime had known, until the pit of nothing inside her her had faded into gray, and she began to move on, to smile and pretend to be happy again. She had lived in that gray for years, a gray that not even Ichigo could take away, gray covered with a yellow facade of happiness so forced and fake that Orihime honestly didn't know how anyone could believe it. But they did. And life went on, and no one noticed. Until the Red.

Red was a color Orihime had always loved. It looked good on her, brought out her silver eyes and pale skin. Red was the color of energy, vibrancy and passion. She had forgotten it was also the color of blood. Claws wrapped around her, stabbing into her, a chain connected to her body lying a few feet away, staring into the glowing ruby eyes of the person she loved most in all the world, Orihime thought vaguely that she would never love the color red again.

Orange was a color that Orihime looked on with perhaps the most fondness. It always reminded her a bit of Ichigo, truth be told, and it was also the color of her long hair, a symbol of her promise to Tatsuki. Whenever Ichigo was around her, the many other colors swarming inside her and around her calmed and stilled, and a peaceful, comfortable orange washed over everything. So Orihime did her best to spend as much time around Ichigo as she could, wanting to sooth away the other, painful colors, wanting to forget; have them banished away by the natural ease that Ichigo always seemed to produce. She had never expected to fall in love with him, however. That was something no one could have predicted.

Blue was a color that Orihime looked on with mixed feelings. Blue was a melancholy color, and the times in her life when she had been painted with it on the inside were not happy ones, but they were the times in her life when she had been able to see things most clearly, for what they really were. They were lonely times. Like waking up on Christmas eager to run out to the tree and open presents with Sora, only to remember that Sora is gone and there is no tree. Celebrating every birthday before she met Tatsuki alone, every New Years. Loving Ichigo. Never knowing if Ichigo loved her back. Loving Rukia. Seeing her with Ichigo, the careless ease they have around each-other making her heart hurt. Is she not good enough for Ichigo? Is it because she's ugly? Too tall? Too curvaceous? Is it her personality? Maybe he doesn't like girls that are clumsy, or ones that space off and say crazy things. But doesn't he know she only does those things so that no one will ever look close enough at her to tell how twisted and broken she is inside? Does he see? What is wrong with her, is she not a good enough person?

These thoughts are always there in the back of her head when Orihime is blue, and she wonders if they'll ever go away. If she'll ever be able to work past her insecurities and low self worth. Because if Ichigo won't help her, who will?

White. White is the opposite of black, because where black is the absence of color, white is the presence of all of it. White used to be Orihime's very favorite color, because if you took it and refracted it you would see every color of the rainbow. Now it is the color Orihime hates most of all. White is nothingness, white is even more empty and cold then black, even more unfeeling. White is no color, no happy colors or sad colors, not even the horrible ones. White is nothing. And when Orihime finds herself trapped in a world of it, she finds herself losing her grip on sanity. The only thing that keeps her aware, that reminds her that outside this Hollow World there is life, there is color of every kind, is her own orange hair, and a pair of vibrant green eyes.

Green. The last color in the spectrum, in the swirling mass of everything inside Orihime's small body. Green was a color she had never given much thought to before, a color she had never really particularly liked or hated. Now she loved it, thought it was beautiful. Sometimes thinking about the reasons behind this made her uneasy, sometimes she accepted it. She loved the color green, an exact shade of green, to be specific, and Orihime's never been one to lie to herself; it's because of Ulquiorra's eyes. There's something in them that Orihime has never seen before, something alien and strange and _wonderful. _Orihime thinks she will go on liking green for the rest of her life.

She ponders these things, these many colors, as she stands alone in the great white hall inside Las Noches, waiting to die. Ulquiorra strides slowly down the corridor towards her, and Orihime briefly wonders what dying feels like. Is there an elsewhere? A heaven? Will she go there? Is she good enough to? Will Ichigo miss her, will he even know she's gone? These thoughts swirl around inside her, and for a moment Orihime is afraid. Then, slowly but steadily, color builds behind her eyes. All the different colors of her life, all the different memories and loved ones explode in a tornado of brilliance, and it's beautiful, so beautiful that it's hard to look at. Like a Kaleidoscope. And this is what's been inside of her all along, Orihime realizes, a rainbow built from sorrow and hurt and happiness and love. A Kaleidoscope heart. That's what she has.

"_Are you afraid, girl?"_

"_No."_

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_R&R, please, and once again so sorry about the wait. Also, go see Harry Potter 7 part two if you haven't yet, Alan Rickman's acting! UCULYCLUYGILVJYVJHVJ HVKC I can't even...  
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	14. Power Limitless, Power Relative

**Hello everyone! So, this is kind of an odd chapter, because it actually goes back in time from Kaleidoscope Heart to Hime's little run in with Loly and Menoly. I just felt the urge to do this don't you judge me. At some point, probably the next chapter, the story will move forward and continue into my own personal canon. Just you all wait for that lovely bit of mind screwery. I might also post another chapter very soon from Aizen's point of view of what I like to call the creep fest. ANYHOW! ONWARD! TO NARNIA! Wrong universe...**

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They've had their fill of being weak. They have. They're sick and tired of silly human emotions lingering in their body. They're sick and tired of the memories hovering on the edges of their consciousness like phantom demons, reminding them that they will never be strong. They hate it. They hate themselves.

When the strange man with deep red eyes and a welcoming smile approached them on the sands of Hueco Mundo and offers them limitless power, they say yes without a second thought.

_Pain.__Pain__pain__pain__ripping__searing__burning__through__their__body__melting__skin__melting__eyes__can__'__t__see__blinding__burning__pain__pain__make__it__pain__stop__can__'__t__see__can__'__t__think__can__'__t__breathe__can__'__t__breathe__can__'__t__breathe__can__'__t-_

Power. Loly opens her eyes to power, and beside her her sister does the same.

The twins fall into life at Los Noches with relative ease, and too soon Loly and Menoly learn the truth. Limitless power is relative. Compared to what they were before, of course, they are gods, but to the even the lowest of espada they're weaklings. Disposable weaklings, at that. Loly follows Aizen, the man who gave her the power, in a desperate hope to attach herself to him for survival. Aizen seems amused by the antics of the sisters, and for a time, all seems well.

Until the human girl appears and turn Hueco Mundo upside down. Until the human _bitch_ upstages everything Loly and Menoly have achieved, everything they've worked for.

Loly takes a fierce, gleeful pleasure in abusing the fragile, pretty human. Finally, someone weaker than she is. Menoly stands by and watched with a look of resigned disapproval, but she makes no move to stop her sister. Loly is in ecstasy. She'll show this bitch. Who does she think she is anyway? She's a worthless human, her so called "powers" are completely useless. This freak isn't worth Aizen's time; isn't worth all the fuss that's being made about her. Loly, so absorbed in punishing the stupid bitch, doesn't sense Grimmjow's riatsu until it's too late to run.

Loly huddles on the floor, gasping, cradling the warm, _living _body of her sister in her arms. The same sister who'd been missing the top half of her body moments before. She shudders. The twins are second best again. Second best to a delicate human girl with brilliant hair and sad eyes and the powers of a God. _The__ powers __of __a __God._Loly shivers again. _Freak._

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**So that was definitely different. Expect a new chapter soon. Read and Review, and I'll give you all a pony. You know you want one.**_  
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